


Introducing: The Spirits (also Genocide)

by DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO



Series: Spirit Mumbo Jumbo [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Air Nomads (Avatar), Angst, Canon Compliant, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Lore (Avatar), Gen, Genocide, How Do I Tag, Not Canon Compliant - The Legend of Korra, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Poor Life Choices, Pre-Canon, Sozin's Comet, Spirits, Well no not really but hey, because why not, i have no idea what that means, i think, no beta we die like men, this is basically my take on the genocide of the air nomads, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO/pseuds/DOOOOWEEEOOOOOOO
Summary: The spirits were getting restless. Change was coming once again, a darkness clouding the horizon, fueled by the minds and ambitions of humans. It was nothing new, of course, and nothing they could do much to prevent, but that did not mean they had to like it.***Fire Lord Sozin is planning a Genocide. The spirits are not too happy about it. Random citizens of the Fire Nation haven't made up their mind yet.
Relationships: Aang & Gyatso, Aang & Raava (Avatar), Roku & Sozin (Avatar)
Series: Spirit Mumbo Jumbo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796863
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	Introducing: The Spirits (also Genocide)

The spirits were getting restless.

Change was coming once again, a darkness clouding the horizon, fueled by the minds and ambitions of humans. It was nothing new, of course, and nothing they could do much to prevent. But that did not mean they had to like it. Still, they were not supposed to interfere with destiny. Not yet, at least. And so the spirits watched silently as the humans shaped their own path.

***

Sozin sat at his desk. He stared down at the assortment of open scrolls and letters cluttering the tabletop, eyes flittering back and forth between them. Some might say he was hunched over in concentration, but he was not. Fire Lords did not hunch. 

He picked up one of the scrolls (if the stack of ancient paper could be called that) and scanned over its contents. It showed some of the more recent Avatars, little pictures of their faces surrounded by careful calligraphy. Their lives, accomplishments and deaths were all carefully documented for the coming generations.

Sozin frowned. He’d have to send for someone to bring it to the Fire Sages. There was an addition to be made.

It had barely been a month since Avatar Roku’s death, that fateful night on the erupting volcano the old man called his home.

Sozin had of course done what he could, but there was just no succeeding against the violent forces of nature. Very tragic, that. But death was an inevitable part of existence, and sometimes you had to let go of your grief and instead work towards a brighter future. Or something like that, anyways. It was what the mourning crowd had wanted to hear, so that was he’d told them.

Of course, the Avatar was not gone forever, Sozin thought as he studied the faces of Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk and Yangchen. They all looked so grim, with their scowly expressions and their glowing eyes.

Now reborn an Air Nomad, the new Avatar was probably already found, ready to be handed off and be raised by the monks the moment the child was weaned. Sozin would have to do something about the kid. The Avatar was the biggest threat to his plans. Roku’s eternal talk about the four nations and balance and whatnot was most certainly a trait all Avatars shared in the end. Otherwise their whole existence would be pretty pointless.

Luckily, over many years of careful consideration, Sozin had managed to come up with a plan.

In the depths of the Dragonbone Catacombs, he had found ancient reports of events nearly a century ago. They held information that was most interesting. The scrolls told of a travelling sun in the sky, a Great Comet that would visit the world every one hundred years and gift the children of Agni with the unimaginable power of a hundred suns.

Power enough to make Sozin’s seemingly utopian idea much more possible. The spirits must truly love him.

The Fire Lord leaned forward a little, reaching for a brush and an empty piece of parchment. He would have to start preparations. Many people of his nation still held a certain, if unfortunate, _connection_ to the other nations and their people. He could not just go and order them to commit a genocide without the right mindset. The people, their minds much too simple and dull, would simply not understand. He’d probably end up being assassinated in an uproar of horrified peasants, and that just wouldn’t do.

He was, after all, Agni’s Chosen, and it was only merciful to share the greatness of Agni with the rest of the world, for he was the God of the Sun, the sole bringer of life and the one priest ruling over all the other spirits.

Sozin addressed his first letter to the director of the Royal Fire Academy for Boys and got to work.

***

Sozin’s understanding of the spirits and their workings was slightly wrong at best.

His first fault was that he believed Agni to be the only spirit that the Fire Nation (and the world at large) needed. According to the Fire Lord’s believes he was the source of all life and thereby far superior to all the other spirits of the word. This was incorrect.

While Agni was one of the older, more respected spirits, and was indeed widely considered to be the priest of the gods, he was by no means superior to all of them. Nor was he the sole source of life. Life was born of balance, and could therefore not be achieved by one spirit alone.

But the Fire Lord was not a big fan of balance, so this explanation would be lost on him.

Agni was also by no means the only spirit at work in the Fire Nation. If it were so, the humans would not be able to make much use of his fire, for the fire of Agni was natural and pure and untamed. This was the fire of the dragons, the first creatures who received the blessing of Agni. It was the fire only true masters were able to use.

But Agni had always been a kind and giving spirit (another thing Sozin did not fully understand) and had therefore sent his sons, Kagutsuchi and Kōjin, to teach the people to use their fire.

Kagutsuchi’s fire was powerful. It represented the violent and destructive nature all fire had. But Kagutsuchi had taught the people, benders and non-benders alike, to use this power to build and repair, not destroy. He was the patron of all blacksmiths and ceramic workers.

Kōjin’s fire on the other hand was controlled. It was the fire of the hearth and the kitchen. He had shown the people how to tame the violent forces of nature and turn them towards the betterment of mankind. As the spirit of the stove, he still to this day watches over the households, and is said to report any misdeeds to the spirit of the village or city, so that no one would be unsafe in the protection of their own home.

So as you can see, Sozin’s understanding of the spirits was not very accurate. It was so inaccurate, in fact, he even got Agni’s title wrong.

Agni was not the god of the sun. He was the god of fire, who was personified in three forms. His earthly form, which was fire, his atmospheric form, which was lightning, and his cosmic form, which was actually the sun.

An easy mistake to make, one Agni could easily forgive. He was not a spirit quick to anger, and usually hat to be mistreated and cheated on to extreme lengths to truly invoke his rage.

Though apparently Sozin was _very_ eager to reach that point.

***

Taru looked down on the stack of paper he was just handed in open dismay. His boss, a middle-aged man with half his face covered by a thick beard and the other half by laugh lines, shrugged in apology.

“Sorry son,” he said, “they came in this mornin’ right from head office. Must be pretty important, I reckon.” He stroked his beard. A nervous habit, although everyone just assumed he did it to be dramatic when thinking. “You better get goin’. Wouldn’t want the messenger to be at fault if the orders arrive late.”

Taru nodded. Not much to be done when there were orders from head office to deliver. Though lately, it happened ridiculously often. He just hoped his komodo rhino would be all ready to go. He’d hate to be late for dinner again.

Jasuk heard the doorbell ring from where he was sitting in the back room. “I’m coming!” He carefully finished the last bow of the inscription. Pleased with his work, he put the ring down on the tabletop and made his way to the front of his shop.

“Good morning,” he smiled pleasantly, “What can I do for you?”

His customer smiled back, if only barely. “Hi, I’m Taru. Are you the blacksmith?”

Jasuk regarded the other man. He was probably younger than him, but not by much, and made up for the lack of wrinkles with deep bags under his eyes. His skin held the slight tan of someone who was outside most of their day, and the top part of his frizzy, chin-length hair was held back in a simple ponytail.

He was also obviously a delivery boy, going by his uniform and the bag at his side.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m assuming you’ve got some kind of message for me?”

“I do, actually.”

He opened his bag, rummaging through it for a second before pulling out the right letter. As he handed it over, Jasuk took note of the way the man fidgeted nervously, and how the slightest of grimaces pulled at his face.

The blacksmith took his letter with a silent sigh. He was not going to like this very much, was he?

As it turned out, he had been right in that assumption.

The letter held orders right from the royal palace, which was never a good thing these days. It told him to stop making his jewelry, that he should instead be a Good Fire Nation Citizen and help with the war effort. Make weapons, armor, spare parts for artillery. Maybe join one of the new factories while you’re at it, you’ll be better off that way. (It wasn’t written like that, of course. But Jasuk was a smart guy, he got the message.)

Jasuk kept his face blank as he folded the letter back up. Taru was still watching him, careful apprehension written in the rigidness of his spine. Poor guy had probably been delivering those kind of messages all week. He imagined most people weren’t particularly happy about their involuntary career change.

“Understood.” He kept his voice perfectly leveled. After all, what was he going to do, overthrow the Fire Lord? No thank you, he didn’t have quite that much of a death wish. Best to just take what he could get and make the best of it.

The messenger visibly deflated. He gave him a single tight nod and made for the door. As he opened it, he turned slightly to give him a small wave and a tired smile. Then he was gone, leaving Jasuk alone with his thoughts.

The blacksmith’s shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed in resignation. Trudging to the backroom, where he had his forge and workbench, he briefly looked over the designs the royal palace had sent along with his instructions. He raised his brow.

Oh, he was going to find a way to make those dreadful shoulder spikes more fashionable.

He got to work, the engagement ring he had just finished before Taru arrived laying abandoned on his table. 調和して, it read. He scoffed. Yeah, right.

Taru’s job as a mailman had never been especially rewarding. He worked long, exhausting hours and gained very little in return. Sure, he got to travel a lot, but that was hardly fun in the thick Fire Nation heat, the sun beating down and burning his neck while the humid air made his hair all frizzy and unmanageable.

In addition to that, he usually ended his days with horrible back pain and a sore bottom.

Nevertheless, it was a secure job (mainly because no one wanted to do it, but that was beside the point), and Taru needed the money. Though it pained him to leave his wife alone with their two children for sometimes days at a time, it was the only way to provide enough money for the four of them to just barely scrape by.

Sami understood, and Taru loved her even more for it. She was the most incredible wife anyone could wish for. They had both been pretty young when they had met and fallen in love, and not much older when they got married and had two children.

Initially, Taru had thought they might get overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising twins, both Firebenders on top of that. But Sami had always been calm and confident in her abilities, and had thus far managed to keep the house from burning down.

(He hoped.)

With the current… political changes, Taru had been getting restless. As a mailman, he got to see more of it than many would assume. Sami had been trying to keep his hopes up, but deep inside they both knew it was pointless. He appreciated the effort, though.

Everybody in the Fire Nation knew a war was coming, although nobody mentioned it outside of the privacy of their own homes. Some people had already decided to pack up their stuff and leave. Many wanted to, but couldn’t or were too scared to. A surprisingly large group of people was waiting for the big snap in delighted anticipation.

Taru rubbed at his eyes and squinted at the signpost ahead, hoping to find his next stop without having to consult his map again. He was reminded once more that he was not one of those people. Maybe he’d already had enough of being the bearer of bad news. Maybe he just didn’t want his children to grow up in war.

There was a messenger in the village, the symbols on his bag and robe screaming _important_. He had found the main notice board out by the well fairly quickly. Had proceeded to produce hammer and nails from his komodo rhino’s saddle bag, deliberately ignoring the fact that everyone was watching him.

As soon as he left in the direction of the innkeeper, presumably for a cold drink, Zaisu and his friends crept towards the board, eager to get a look at the news.

“Guys, move out of the way, would you?”

“Just wait a second Yu, give a guy time to read!”

“Could you please keep your stupid elbow out of my ribs?”

“Sorry.”

Zaisu rolled his eyes and ignored the little squabble in favor of reading the message.

He blinked. Read it again. Squinted a little. His mind came up blank. His friends had also fallen silent.

“That’s… good, though, isn’t it?” He shrugged a little.

“We’ll finally get a chance to serve our nation, and - and share _all this_ ,” said Illia, gesturing around them with vague hand movements, “with the other nations! After all, they do seem to need some help.”

Zaisu considered this. Then he nodded slowly, chewing on his lip.

Illia was right, as she usually was. That was what they were taught in school. And in the Fire Youth too, when they had those little courses in between their weekend trips and activities.

The other nations did seem pretty… backwards in their ways, which is why none of his friends had ever had the chance to visit one of them.

The Earth Kingdom had basically no functioning education system, and their economy was trash, because they only relied on farming, but had way too many draughts. Not even mentioning the fact that they had multiple kings (How was that even supposed to work?) and every one of them just did what they wanted.

The Water Tribes were intolerant and sexist, which was why they had no economy, barely managing to feed their own villages through arctic winters. But what did they expect if they only let half the population work?

And the Air Nomads were the worst. They took children away from their mothers, owned nothing except for the food they planted themselves and lived far away from everyone else in their way too dangerous temples. Zaisu had heard that is was a common occurrence there for someone to just stumble and fall to their death.

So it did seem like the right thing, to share the Fire Nation’s own progressive and advanced ways with them, help them towards a better future. They were the ones blessed by Agni after all, and it would be fair to share the life he brought. But…

He had heard some other stories, too. People didn’t discuss those kinds of stories out in the open, especially not this close to the capital, but you could pick up a little here and there if you were listening.

His younger cousin, Kuzon, whom he didn’t meet very often because he lived on a smaller, more isolated island further in the south, had once told him of an Airbender he was friends with. Kuzon said that his friend was nothing like what they were told in school, and that the boy had told him of his travels across the other nations, and they were really not as bad as everyone always said they were.

But, Zaisu thought, Kuzon was still a kid. Kids tended to be idealistic. He wouldn’t understand.

As his friends made their way back to the Fire Youth headquarters for their afternoon game of capture the flag, Zaisu hung back a little and read through the announcement again.

It seemed he’d have to find out where the next enlistment center was. Personally, he wasn’t very big on joining the army. He wasn’t very good at Firebending, and using it in combat situations was never his strength.

But, who knew, together with his friends it might just be bearable. It might even be fun. At least it would be for a good purpose, he thought, carefully pushing his doubts to the back of his mind.

A light hand landed on Zaisu’s shoulder, making him jump in surprise. Looking up, he saw the messenger who had brought the announcement. He looked tired, and a frizzy strand of hair had loosened itself from his half-done ponytail. He gave Zaisu an encouraging smile.

“I think you’ll do just fine.” Zaisu smiled back slightly, nodding his thanks. The messenger nodded and mounted his komodo rhino. With a little salute and a “Stay flamin’, Hotman!” he left.

Zaisu cringed. That slang had been out a year ago.

Akira was happy with her life just the way it was, thank you very much. She had a nice little farm, with a hoard of chicken-quails, four pig-sheep that grew fresh wool faster than bamboo and a thriving garden full of vegetables and herbs of all kinds.

She had inherited the farm from her mother, and had been tending to it for the majority of her life, the better part of it alone. Although a few years ago, her girlfriend had moved in with her, and had since then been a big help.

She had introduced the concept of actually making something out of their products, which they then sold together on the town market. Syn’s incredible pumpkinberry pies were famous three villages over.

Akira was finally happy. She didn’t want anything to change. So when, on a particularly hot late summer day, a man dressed in the uniform of a royal messenger approached their little stand, Akira’s initial reaction was to scowl. Fortunately, Syn was there to handle pleasant conversation.

“Good afternoon, sir. You look like you could use something to eat. Can I offer you a piece of pumpkinberry pie?” She smiled softly. The way she kicked Akira’s shin, in an unmistakable gesture of “behave” could not be seen past the countertop.

“Actually, why not,” the man smiled, “I’ll take four. I’m sure my wife would love to try some as well.”

Syn beamed back at him and began to wrap the pieces, making sure they wouldn’t get too squashed if the man were to put them in that bag of his.

Meanwhile, the messenger turned to Akira. “Are you the owner of the farm out by the edge of this town?” Akira’s scowl hardened and the man’s shoulders tensed.

“I am. Why?”

Akira was pretty sure the man was fighting back a cringe as he produced a letter from his bag.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he handed it over. Akira glared at the letter, and snatched the offending piece of paper from the man’s hand with a slightly dramatic flair. Syn had paused her wrapping and looked at the letter with a concerned frown.

“ _What?!_ ” Akira exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. “They can’t do that! This is _my_ farm, they can’t just go and take it away! And without compensation, what am I supposed to be living from?!”

Syn tried to hold her back by her wrist, softly calling her name, but Akira was already storming around the counter and towards the poor mailman.

Who seemed to be shrinking further with every step she made.

She slammed the open letter against his chest. His hand flew up to hold it in place as Akira punched her finger against the paper to emphasize her words.

“You can bring this thing back to your boss, or your head office, bring it back to the _damn_ _Fire Lord himself_ for all I care!” She puched the letter again. “You can bring it back and tell them that I am _not_ giving up my farm, my _family’s property_ and source of income, because they think that it _might_ be built on top of some _stupid coal!_ ”

Syn put her hands on Akira’s shoulders, pulling her back a little. Rubbing her girlfriend’s shoulders in a placating gesture, she ~~grimaced~~ smiled at the mailman.

“I’m sorry, you have to understand that she is very passionate about our farm. We realize you’re not at fault here. I’ll give you your pies for free.”

Akira jerks around to face her girlfriend. “They can’t do that! That farm is all we have, they can’t just take it away!” Syn smiled soothingly, taking both her hands in her own.

“We’ll figure something out, Honey, I promise. Now stop yelling at the mailman.”

Taru returned home late for dinner that night. As an apology, he brought four whole slices of the Fire Nation’s very best pumpkinberry pie.

Later, when the twins were finally asleep, Sami kissed the top of his head and held him close as they lay in their bed. And for a moment, he could almost pretend that the feelings of pity and guilt and dread pooling in the pit of his stomach weren’t there.

Almost.

***

Hachiman did not like the new developments of the human world.

Fields and farms were torn down, the land he was supposed to protect was ripped open to find new fuel for the forges of new factories, and there was nothing he could do about it.

In times of war, nobody thought to pray to a deity of agriculture. And so Hachiman’s purpose shifted. In times of war, he was no longer the protector of the land, but instead became the protector of the soldiers.

He was the god of war.

But don’t be fooled, he was not the god of bloodshed and slaughter, nor the god of victory.

He was the god of war, the one that soldiers prayed to, the one they begged to protect them so that they would see another day. He was the patron of those who were made to fight a war that was not their own, and who just wanted it to end so they could return to a simpler time.

He was the god of war, yet his steady companions and messengers were white swallow-doves, there to remind everyone that peace and freedom can always be achieved, even in times of loss and darkness.

And as the people of the world turned their back on their simple lives, as soldiers were drafted and left for the army, Hachiman left with them.

***

The Temples of the Air Nomads were quite lively places. They were swarming with diverse animals, monks, nuns, families and their children, all living together.

Every temple was like its own big community. While the Air Nomads in general were not averse to falling in love and founding their own family (being a nun or monk wasn’t for everyone), even those families tended to live as part of the collective.

After all, it takes a village to raise a child.

The monks taught the children that worldly possessions were a secondary joy, and that true fulfillment could come only from the connections they made in life, mainly with the spirits, but also with their friends and family.

The nuns taught the children that all life was sacred, and to only ever take what they needed to survive. They showed them how to pick out the ripest, best tasting pineberries and how to harvest crops without harming the wildlife.

The mothers showed them how to weave and mend fabric, for a ripped shirt is not necessarily broken. If you could mend it, there was no need to replace it yet. The fathers showed them to bake and cook, how to process the food they collected just right, so that they wouldn’t get sick and it would taste even better than before.

The older children showed their younger siblings their best tricks, the best hiding spaces in little nooks and crannies of the temple walls. They showed them the specific kind of fruit that all lemur-bats loved, and the one spot under the chin where every sky bison loved to be scratched.

The community was an important part of their culture, it made them feel welcome and at home, and not only at their temples. Where ever they went, they could always be at home with the people surrounding them.

And so, it was with a heavy feeling in his heart that monk Gyatso watched his young  
protégé teach his new marble trick to his friends.

Gyatso had heard the other monks talking, of course. They were already considering telling him. He had explained in great detail that Aang was not ready, that he needed a few more years of a normal childhood. They had said they would think it over, but Gyatso knew better.

He loved life at the Air Temples. He loved the spirituality of it, loved the feeling of community it brought. That was why he chose to become a monk and stay at the temple, instead of travelling with the wind. He liked to welcome their visitors with open arms, and preferred it over being a visitor himself.

In their community, the Air Nomads were very connected, and respecting of others and their needs. _And yet_ , Gyatso thought as he turned back towards the stove, they had some issues with inclusion. 

Non-benders were a rare sight at the Air Temples. They came to visit, of course, and to trade. But, as they were often not able to comfortably access the temples without the escort of a bender and his bison, they usually lived in little settlements closer to solid ground.

One of the first things an Airbender learned was to cushion every fall, or avoid falling altogether. That way, most accidents could be avoided.

But non-benders were not the only ones who were often a little excluded. And Gyatso had the terrible feeling that, once the other children learned that Aang was the Avatar, they might start exclude him from their games.

It had been quite similar with his old friend Roku. Many of the other students had tended to avoid him, not trying to include him the way an Air Nomad normally would.

But that might have just been because of those various incidents where Roku and Gyatso had crashed into the others. They had caused quite a few bruises. But who knew?

Gyatso took his favorite fruit cakes out of the oven and fluffed them up with a practiced flick of his wrist. Monk Shigao was glaring up at him from his favorite meditation spot in the gardens, beckoning him over. Gyatso sighed.

Maybe today was not the right day to practice his aim. 

***

Raava was not happy about the way the humans threated her champion.

She had been angry ever since her last champion had died an unjust death, battling a volcano (and winning!) just to be betrayed by a friend. Albeit she admitted that his death had not been an early one, Roku had had a few more years left within him. And now, as she watched the monks tell her new champion of his destiny way too early, her anger simmered.

The monks were afraid of a brewing darkness, and believed they would need the Avatar. She understood. But that did not mean she had to like it.

Raava was grateful for her champion’s guardian. He was a kind, gentle soul, who saw and treaded Aang as the child he still was. She had already liked him back when he was Roku’s friend.

Now, he was doing everything he could do for Aang in their limited time, but Raava knew it would not be enough.

She watched Aang fly into the storm, jumping into action herself so that he could protect himself. At the same time, she also saw Gyatso opening the door to Aang’s room.

The Avatar was frozen in ice, and Raava knew he would not see his guardian again, would never know of his chance for a longer childhood. And for that, she grieved.

***

Many years had been spent in waiting. It had taken great discipline, conviction and patience, but now the day had finally arrived. All his dedication would come to a pay-off at last.

His face set in grim satisfaction, Sozin looked down at his assembled army, ready to strike. He had invested a great deal of money and time to make his army the best out of all the nations, carefully picking only the most skilled and loyal soldiers, and pouring the Nation’s funds into their training, as well as the creation of new and better artillery.

Many of his generals had been opposed to his plans at first. But Sozin was a very convincing man. And those who could not be convinced, well. He could only imagine how happy they were now, living in their new permanent vacation homes in the colonies.

Sozin took a deep breath, facing the sky. It was already turning red around the edges, a faint taste of what was to come.

Over the past few weeks, he had stationed troops close to the Air Nomad temples. They had travelled in secret, of course, carrying their most deadly weapon deep inside. Sozin was no fool, and held no delusions about how the other nations would take his actions, and the consequences that being found out too soon would have.

But with time, they would understand. The elimination of the Air Nomads was but a necessary step for the greater good. Once the remaining nations could receive the help of those blessed by Agni himself, once they could feel his life coursing through their veins and their lands, there would be no more doubts.

Sozin took another deep breath, soaking in this feeling of pure power and invulnerability. The Great Comet, sent by Agni as a gift to his children, was burning golden in the atmosphere. Their time had come.

 _This,_ Sozin thought with a smile on his lips, _is the beginning of a new age._

***

The lord of the winds had many names, and many shapes to go with them.

In the Water Tribes, the people called upon Sila to be the wind in their sails, to carry them far away over the waves of the ocean, and to lead them back home at the end of the day. They prayed for his storms to have mercy on their village, and they prayed to him to give back the breath of children nearly drowned.

The people of the Earth Kingdom did not care much for the wind. They did not need it, for they were much to rooted to their own element to let themselves be carried away. In the big cities, surrounded by the tallest thickest walls to keep out all things unwelcome, people tended to forget that he existed at all. Out on the vast expanses of the land however, people were still honoring Fēilián, trying to appease the ancient spirit so that he would not interfere with their harvest, leaving them poor, and erode away at what was left of their homes.

To the people of the Fire Nation Fūjin had always been vital. He was the one who stoked their fires, helped them grow and kept them alive, both the ones in their hearths and in their souls. But as the times changed, people started to forget. Warriors learned new ways to feed their flames, ways that were easier and more effective, but harmful in the long run. And as their blacksmiths made weaponry and armor for their Fire Lord to pursue his great ambitions, as ornaments, pots and kettles lay forgotten, Fūjin still kept their forges hot.

The Air Nomads had always held a very special connections to the spirits. They tended not to worship, not to plead and beg and curse, but rather opened their minds to let themselves be guided. They came the closest to recognizing Vāyu as what he was, and not what he was needed for. That was why he let them learn. As the Air Nomads watched and learned and understood the way Vāyu’s first children commanded the airs, they were granted an incredible power, and he trusted them not to abuse it. They never did. That was their doom.

The lord of the wind had many names, but his shapes were all the same. He was the air, he was the wind, he was the breath. He was ancient and wise, soothing and angry, playful and indifferent all the same. Some said that he was one of the oldest, that he had been there since the very creation of their world. Others said he had already been there to witness it.

And who knew, they might be right. After all, what were stars born of if not mere shifting gas?

***

This was it. This was the moment they had all been waiting and training for.

They had obviously known about the Air Nomad’s army for quite some time. It wasn’t like they were very subtle about it. The Nomads had heard of the Fire Nation’s noble quest to share their prosperity with the world, but they had misunderstood. And, having the current Avatar among them, they had gotten bold.

Fire Lord Sozin had been right after all, Illia thought to herself. The Air Nomads were savages, heartless people who did not care about anything but themselves. The Fire Nation had offered to help them, to lead them away from their harmful, outdated ways, but they had not been willing to see reason.

They were savages, who could not be trusted with the power they held.

Illia looked towards the sky. She could see it now. The Great Comet. It looked beautiful, just like they had been told, although none of the many tales she had read about it could quite do justice to the way it glowed golden in the sky.

As she stood there, feeling its light connecting to the fire she held in her chest, General Aikoh shouted his final orders. They were hardly understandable over the sound of wind whipping along the cliffs, but it didn’t matter now. They all knew what they were here for anyways.

Illia couldn’t see the faces of her fellow soldiers through their helmets, but she was fairly certain she could recognize Yu and Zaisu standing a few paces to her left.

Her shoulders were set in determination. Well, as set as they could be under those dreadful shoulder spikes. She had a serious complaint to make to whoever designed those. But oh well, maybe they would be useful in battle? She couldn’t really imagine _how_ , but then again, she had never really been in a battle, especially not against Airbenders.

The General yelled a remarkably fierce – was that supposed to be a battle-cry? – and proceeded to set his hands and feet aflame. So that was it then.

Illia reached inwards, connecting to her inner flame. She could feel it blazing, just barely held under control. She fueled all her accumulated feelings of anger and hatred towards those who would harm her and her people into the fire, just like her instructors had taught them. She pulled it outwards, let it pool around her clenched fists and underneath her feet.

With a burst, General Aikoh shoot skywards. If she hadn’t been concentrating so hard, she would have snickered. It looked kind of ridiculous. But hey, as long as it worked. The General was – well, flying. Or maybe shooting – up the length of the cliff, right into the fog. His troops, Illia included, followed close.

It was an exhilarating feeling, but unimaginably scary. She had known that she would have to keep a close grip on her fire at all times, or it could turn against her. What she (for some reason) hadn’t anticipated, was the wind doing everything in its power to smash her and her companions against the rocky cliff. But they held against it, rising up and up.

A scream echoed in the wind.

Illia saw the temple now. It looked unnatural, the way it was stuck upside-down under the cliff. Figures in orange and yellow were scrambling along the terraces, defying gravity with every jump like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was weird.

Although she probably wasn’t one to talk right now.

Only stumbling slightly, Illia landed on one of the lower (upper?) levels of the temple, immediately falling into a fighting stance. She had expected to get ambushed pretty much right away, but there was no one around. _Lucky me, I guess._ She used the opportunity to storm right through the next door she saw, blasting it off its hinges with a burst of fire way more powerful than what she was used to.

The first room she entered was filled with beds. They looked orderly, and the only thing giving any indication to people actually using them were the chests of clothes next to each one. There was no one here, and Illia had her orders. So she burned them down.

Many more rooms received a similar treatment. They held more beds, tables, shelves full of ancient tombs and writing utensils. But still, none of the Air Nomads had tried to stop her. In fact, she hadn’t actually seen one yet. She had heard screams, obviously, but they were all coming from outside. That was why, once the whole hallway was consumed by flames, that’s where she headed.

Once outside, the question of where all the Air Nomads were was quickly answered. They were scrambling along the temple, grabbing no supplies, only weird wooden staffs. She could see a woman dodging a fire blast and grab a small child that was wailing for its mother. Another man was pulling at a sky bison’s reins, desperately trying (and failing) to lead the beast past an arch that was already set aflame. But there was something missing.

 _They aren’t fighting back_ , Illia noticed. _Why aren’t they fighting back?_

She frowned. There was supposed to be an army here, waiting for them. Yet the Air Nomads weren’t even trying to protect their own temple. They were just… running.

_Something is wrong._

A cold feeling of dread was pooling in her gut. Frantically, she looked around, searching for vindication she knew, she _knew_ wasn’t there.

The whole temple was already set aflame, thick smoke rising above them. There were screams echoing everywhere, carried by the wind but muffled through the flames. Some were screaming names, others were screaming for help. Many were screaming in agony.

It was like a coat of false teachings and beliefs had suddenly fallen off, reality hitting her square in the face.

 _This is wrong,_ she thought in horror.

 _It’s too late now_ , her subconsciousness answered.

There was a child, Illia noted with a strange feeling of apathy. It was a little boy, not older than four. He was crying, way too silent, pressed tightly into a corner just behind her. As she looked down at him, the boy let out a panicked wail.

Illia didn’t know what made her do it. Maybe some kind of dumb, motherly instinct. But as she saw the crying child, dressed in yellow and orange, she took a step closer to the boy. She hunched down slightly, trying to appear less threatening, and held out her hand in an offering of peace.

The boy screamed.

In hindsight, it had been a pretty stupid thing to do. As she was knocked off the platform by a powerful blast of air, she remembered those stupid shoulder spikes. The boy had been scared of _her_ , she reasoned. All of the Air Nomads had been. There was no secret Army, no hideous plot against them. As the growing cloud of smoke disappeared above thick fog, she realized this.

She was still turning and turning and turning, not sure where up and down was anymore (down was where she was going, of course. That’s how gravity worked). She was no child of the air. She knew the Lord of the winds wouldn’t show her mercy. And she knew she didn’t deserve it anymore.

 _But he was only scared_ , she reasoned. _Surely he didn’t mean to kill me_.

***

The spirits were shocked in a way they hadn’t been in quite some time.

Agni watched in anger as those blessed by him tainted their flames with suffering and bloodshed. Nobody on earth could notice in this age, but the sun was flaring that day, more so than ever before, spitting angry blasts out into the cosmos. Agni found the person responsible for the massacre. And, although no one would ever know of it, from this day on Fire Lord Sozin’s inner flame would never burn again.

It was already severe, for a Firebender to lose his bending, but no earthly punishment could compensate Sozin’s misdeeds. Once Sozin was long dead, and Raava and her champion would return to restore balance to the world, then – and only then – could justice be served.

***

For the first time in a long time, maybe forever, Vāyu cried.

As his chosen, the children of the winds, were slaughtered and burned for crimes they had never commited, Vāyu cried out in agony.

He led the souls of his weeping children away from the place where they had laughed and played and _lived_ , and the winds all across the world wailed in despair.

**Author's Note:**

> This was born of my desire to write something about the spirits of Atla, so here you go. There will probably be more in the future. I'm thinking the influence of the spirits had in the life of the Gaang, maybe it'll be a little Canon Divergent, who knows. 
> 
> About the spirits I used: They were inspired by/taken straight out of Chinese/Japanese/Buddhist/Inuit religion and mythology (Which is which mainly depends on the Nation. Fire Nation is Japanese, Earth Kingdom is Chinese, Air Nomads are Buddhist and Water Tribes are Inuit. Some are a little in-between, though, so). I hope you liked them, because I really enjoyed doing my research and adapting them a bit to the world of Avatar. 
> 
> I also never watched the Legend of Korra or read the comics, so I've got no idea if that stuff is accurate. If you know anything, feel free to tell me.
> 
> If you have any ideas, questions, wishes, etc. feel free to leave a comment! Any constructive criticism is also welcome :D


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